


Wake

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Dominance, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Mild Painplay, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom spends a morning in the early days with his most loyal Death Eater.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gamma_Orionis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamma_Orionis/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this. 
> 
> Congrats Ravenclaw! We won the cup at [Hogwarts is Home on LJ](http://hogwartsishome.livejournal.com/). So I'm writing my fellow claws drabbles. This is for [gamma_x_orionis](http://gamma_x_orionis.livejournal.com/).

She’s too young for him by what feels like a century. She’s brash, and she’s reckless, and there’s a fire in her worthy of Gryffindor. But she’s a snake in every way, from the harsh curve of her mouth to the sharp grooves of her fingernails. He observes her when she’s sleeping, when she doesn’t think that he is. He brushes the dark curls from her face and thumbs her high cheekbones. She’s a beauty, in a way. A dark way. If he could’ve left the orphanage with her, all the other boys would’ve been _so jealous._

But he doesn’t have to think about them. She’s just some tramp in his bed, and she knows that, and when she wakes, it’s always with a smirk. She thinks she’s so special, being chosen. So honoured. She’s an ego trip and a half. He shuts his eyes and lets his hand fall limp as she stretches, sitting up in bed. The sheets slip from her naked form, full breasts tumbling out, awash in the curtained-off sunlight. He pretends he’s asleep, and she’s a fool, so she buys it.

He has the power all the time. He doesn’t need it here. She’d never tell a soul, anyway, too loyal, and she couldn’t—he holds her in the palm of his hand. He lets her chuckle over him, stroke his back and scratch his sides, before slipping over the edge of the mattress. 

He cracks open an eye to watch her hips sway, bare rear bulging as she bends down, fishing in her discarded dress. He stares at her ass until she turns, and then he’s back to _sleep._ She flicks her wand while she walks. The black coils spring up around him, twisting around his wrists, and he pretends to awaken as they bind together. He’s flipped around by his legs, ankles pulled taut to the bedposts, hands flying to the headboard. Strolling around the side of the bed, she purrs, “Good morning, my lord.”

“Bella,” Tom says coolly, as though he isn’t naked, tied, and vulnerable. She smirks and slides her hands onto his body, skillfully teasing his chest. She knows what she’s doing. She’s a smoldering vixen. She climbs back onto the mattress, onto his body, straddling his hips, and she plays with his limp cock while she talks to him.

“Did you have good dreams, my lord? Were you good in them?” 

“I was terribly bad,” Tom chuckles. “I fucked your husband-to-be and made you watch.”

Bellatrix scowls. “Naughty thing,” she harrumphs. He’s looking as collected as ever while she grins, sighing, “You’ll have to be punished for that. And it’s so early in the morning... to think you’ll be flogged even before breakfast comes... or whipped, perhaps...”

“I thought you didn’t want to ruin my pretty face? Or do you intend to get off me for the fun?”

Bellatrix sighs, and she throws her head back, making a show of sending her long, dark curls flying. They tumble back down and settle across her shoulders, draping across her gorgeous breasts. Then she’s dark eyes and twisted lips and pale, smooth skin, all the way down to the dark hair around her pussy, still or already wet for him. She’s pumping him slowly to hardness, and she purrs, “I intend to have a good ride first. Your pain comes after my pleasure, you see.”

“Ah,” Tom says amicably. “I misunderstood. Forgive me.”

Lit up like a minx, Bellatrix leans over him, and she backhands him suddenly across the face. His cock twitches in her hands. “You did that on purpose,” she seethes, furious and wild, then back to gentle and soothing again. “You dirty boy, teasing your poor mistress like that... when you know all she wants is some fun on your cock...”

Tom strains upwards in his bonds, wanting a kiss. They’re too tight, and all it does is chafe his skin—he doesn’t come even close to her lips. His cheek stings where she hit him. Her sharp nails trace down his neck, and her long fingers close around his throat, holding tighter and tighter, until he’s struggling not to gasp for breath. He needs air, but he doesn’t want to show it. Even in their games, he likes to have control.

She likes to rip that away. She keeps her grip tight as she rises up on her knees, hovering over his cock, stroking it lovingly with one hand and trying to kill him with the other. Her eyes are on his as she drops down, squeezing tight all at once. Tom breaks. His mouth opens as wide as it’ll go, moaning and gulping, and his cock’s enveloped by her tight, hot, wet channel, and his wind pipe’s being crushed. His head is thinning. Blood rushing. The pain and the pleasure mingle, and the intoxicating sensations are _exquisite_.

She’s a talented thing—she knows just what her master wants. She lets go of his throat and backhands him again, and he chokes and coughs. She starts bouncing up and down on his cock, moaning and throwing her head back. When his vision comes back, he watches her breasts bounce, and he wants to hold her tiny waist, but when he moves his hands, the binds just clink. Bellatrix chuckles darkly, “You’re at my mercy, darling...” She sounds so erotic and power hungry. The lust’s all over her voice. She bites her lip and she puts her hands flat on his chest, running up and down, leaving red lines from her nails. 

“So handsome...” She leans down to kiss the side of his face, raunchily using too much tongue—she kisses filthy. She nips his ear. “My gorgeous lord, all nice and laid out for me, begging for my touch...”

Tom says warningly, “ _Bellatrix._ ” She can dominate his body, but she won’t have his mind. No one makes him beg.

She pouts so prettily. And she slaps him for his insolence. She grabs his nipples and squeezes too tight, and he bites his lip and grits his teeth against the pain. She grabs fistfuls of his dark hair and tugs his head back, and she bites his throat and makes him sore. He can tell when she’s close to her climax, because her screams and moans get higher pitched, and her fingers tense harder against his skull. 

He growls when she stops. She sits up, and his hard cock slips out, and she crawls up his body, holding his head in place. She opens her mouth to give more orders, but all that comes out is a throaty, hoarse moan. 

Tom opens his mouth. He knows what he’s doing. She hisses, “ _Yessss..._ ” before he’s even started.

He uses his tongue, and he makes her _scream._

And they both know he wants to scream, too.


End file.
